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She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
That still records with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen
Vail to her mistress Dian ;5 still
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute Marina :6 so

With the dove of Paphos might the crow
Vie feathers white. Marina gets
All praises, which are paid as debts,
And not as given. This so darks
In Philoten all graceful marks,
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
A present murderer does prepare
For good Marina, that her daughter
Might stand peerless by this slaughter,
The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead;
And cursed Dionyza hath

The pregnant instrument of wrathi
Prest for this blow.8 The unborn event

I do commend to your content :

Only I carry winged time

Post on the lame feet of my rhyme ;

Which never could I so convey,

Unless your thoughts went on my way.

Dionyza does appear,

With Leonine, a murderer.


The author seems to mean-When

[5] To vail is to bow, to do homage. she would compose supplicatory hymns to Diana, or verses expressive of her gratitude to Dionyza.

We might indeed read-Hail to her mistress Dian; i. e. salute her in verse. STEEVENS.

That Dian, i. e. Diana, is the true reading, may, I think, be inferred from a passage in The Merchant of Venice; which may at the same time perhaps afford the best comment on that before us :

"Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;

"With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
"And draw her home with music."

Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream:

"To be a barren sister all your life,

"Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon." MALONE.

[6] i. e. highly accomplished, perfect. MALONE.

[7] Pregnant is ready. So, in Hamlet:

"And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,-". MALONE.

[8] Prest is ready; pret. Fr. MALONE.


Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea-shore. Enter DIONYZA


Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do it: 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon, To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom, Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which

Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be

A soldier to thy purpose.

Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.

Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her. "Here Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.

Thou art resolv'd?

Leon. I am resolv'd.

Enter MARINA, with a Basket of Flowers. Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds,

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,

While summer days do last.2 Ah me! poor maid,
Born in a tempest, when my mother died,

This world to me is like a lasting storm,

Whirring me from my friends. 3

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing you have

[9] So, in King Richard III:

"O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous,-
"The fitter for the King of Heaven."


[1] By the green, as Lord Charlemont suggests to me, was meant "the green turf with which the grave of Lychorida was covered."

Weed in old language meant garment.

[2] So, in Cymbeline :

with fairest flowers,

"While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,


"I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack
"The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor
"The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins, no, nor
"The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander
"Out-sweeten'd not thy breath."


[3] A bird that flies with a quick motion, accompanied with noise, is said to whirr away. Thus, Pope :


Now from the brake the whirring pheasant springs.") MAL.


A nurse of me. Lord how your favour's chang'd
With this unprofitable woe! Come, come;

Give me your wreath of flowers, ere the sea mar it.4
Walk forth with Leonine; the air is quick there,
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come ;-
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

Mar. No, pray you;

I'll not bereave you of your servant.

Dion. Come, come;

I love the king your father, and yourself,
With more than foreign heart.5 We every day
Expect him here: when he shall come, and find
Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted,

He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
That excellent complexion, which did steal
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;

I can go home alone.

Mar. Well, I will go ;

But yet I have no desire to it.

Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least;

Remember what I have said.

Leon. I warrant you, madam.

Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while;

Pray you, walk softly, do not heat your blood :

What! I must have a care of you.

Mar. Thanks, sweet madam.

Is this wind westerly that blows?
Leon. South-west.


Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.
Leon. Was't so ?

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
But cry'd, good seamen! to the sailors, galling

[4] i.e. ere the sea mar your walk upon the shore by the coming in of the tide, walk there with Leonine. We see plainly by the circumstance of the pirates, that Marina, when seized upon, was walking on the sea-shore; and Shakspeare was not likely to reflect that there is little or no tide in the Mediterranean. CHARLEMONT.

[5] With the same warmth of affection as if I was his countrywoman.

MALONE. [5] Our fair charge, whose beauty was once equal to all that fame said of it. So, in Othello:

"He hath achiev'd a maid,

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His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea

That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle
Wash'd off a canvas-climber:7 Ha! says one,

Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,

They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, The master calls, and trebles their confusion.

Leon. And when was this?

Mar. It was when I was born:

Never was waves nor wind more violent.
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
Mar. What mean you?

Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it: Pray ; but be not tedious,

For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.

Mar Why, will you kill me?
Leon. To satisfy my lady.

Mar. Why would she have me kill'd?
Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did her hurt in all my life;
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
To any living creature: believe me, la,
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly :
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger?

Leon. My commission

Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope.
You are well-favour'd, and your looks foreshow
You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,

When you caught hurt in parting two that fought :
Good sooth, it show'd well in you; do so now :
Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
And save poor me, the weaker.

Leon. I am sworn,

And will despatch.

Enter Pirates, whilst MARINA is struggling.

1 Pirate. Hold, villain!

[LEONINE runs away.

[7] A canvas climber is one who climbs the mast, to furl, or unfurl, the canvas or sails. So, in King Henry V:

"and in them behold

"Upon the hempen-tackle ship-boys climbing." STEEV

2 Pirate. A prize! a prize!

3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly.

The same.

[Exeunt Pirates, with MARINA.


Re-enter LEONINE.

Leon. These roving thieves serve the great pirate

Valdes ;

And they have seiz'd Marina.
There's no hope she'll return.

Let her go:

I'll swear she's dead,

And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further;
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
Not carry her aboard. If she remain,

Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain. [Exit.


Mitylene. A Room in a Brothel. Enter PANDER, Bawd, and BOULT.

Pand. Boult.

Boult. Sir.

Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, by being too wenchless.

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd. Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as I think, I have brought up some eleven

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again. But shall I search the market?

Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. Pand. Thou say'st true; they are too un wholesome o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms: but I'll go search the market. [Ex

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